The story goes something like this: One sunny early autumn day I was strolling down Third Street in Hoboken, heading towards Washington Street when I happened upon a small gate sale. I browsed the various items for a few minutes when a home-grown magazine from the late 70s called Time Machine caught my eye.Full of beautiful engravings and drawings from the early 20th century, as well as letters from Buckminster Fuller and other notables, articles of opinion, comedy, and history, the magazines begged to be purchased. And each of these treasures was only $1. I grabbed the lot of them and went to buy, when an innocent looking man named Jim said, "Oh, you like those? I got more in the back." Continue reading

Other than geography, what do we have in common?
More than you realize.
You know I’m not without options here, World. You don’t authorize this separation, I’ve got steps I can take.
They won’t work.
Yeah? Let’s say I shut down, take a snooze. Cut my monkey base loose.
You’d never do that, New York.
Wouldn’t I? Imagine it. An over-crowded city full of aggressive people with no sense of community. Wouldn’t be long before productivity declined, the infrastructure collapsed, markets went haywire. Ouch. What happens to Uncle Sam then? Continue reading